Demigod Disabilities
by Winter Jackson
Summary: Basically, this is about random demigods of all ages, of all parentages, having some sort of disability that isn't dyslexia or ADHD. This is about those disabilities, and how they overcome them or just accept them and move on. Series of oneshots. T because I don't know what's coming up.
1. A Healed-Wrong Foot

Tess loved winter.

She loved the way the snow gently fell into her cold, cold hands, the way the icy breeze picked up her long, heavy, dark hair and tossed it behind her, the way the frost grew on the window panels, all swirly and spiky and each time unique, the way she was so flexible during the winter.

But most of all, she loved the way she could _walk_ during winter.

No limp.

No drag.

No stubbed toes.

But as graceful as could be on the ice and snow.

Her broken foot couldn't bother her when it was cushioned by snow.

The ice numbed the pain under her so that she could dance properly for the winter.

And the best part about it was? The village was so, so tiny that they all knew Tess, her waist-long, black-as-a-winter-midnight hair, her icy blue eyes, and the pain that her left foot gave her. They all knew that she loved being able to glide gracefully across the ice and sometimes snow, instead of limping clumsily across the street.

So they hardly bothered with the snow plows, only clearing the Main Street.

Tourists would pass every once in awhile, complaining about the amount of snow lying on the ground.

_"You have snow plows. Use them!"_

_"Argh, damnit! More snow! Move it you little bug!"_

_"Why don't you clear anything else besides the Main Street?"_

And the locals would explain about Tess and her healed-wrong foot. Tess herself made a point of visiting every shop owner during winter every single day, so she often came in while said shop owner was explaining about Tess. Tess, her pale face flushed with cold and blue eyes sparkling with happiness that only came out during winter, always took off her skates before coming in, showing the shocked tourist that the girl that was just gliding by gracefully indeed had a very bad limp.

Mr. Hima, Tess's father, knew of his daughter's adventures in winter, and supported her outgoings. Truthfully, he was one of two that knew why Tess loved winter, why she was able to walk so smoothly during winter, despite a badly healed left foot.

Tess Hima: daughter of Khoine.

* * *

Tess grinned in delight as she froze the surface of the lake and glided on top of the ice, ice skates firmly tied to her feet. Unsure, she hesitantly glided a short way, before she froze more of the lake in front of her. It had been so long...

Then she was off, dancing in the moonlight, creating intricate swirls across the lake, jumping, spinning, gliding backwards. Her cold, cold hands danced across the surface of the unfrozen lake, sending gigantic 'snowflakes' across the lake. She jumped, higher than she'd ever been able to jump before, her icy blue eyes twinkling in delight, her long hair whipping about her, white streaking her black hair. She landed, gliding backwards smoothly on her left foot, before she came to a complete stop in the middle of the lake, smiling, her eyes shining. Her black hair fell around her in a curtain again, and she defrosted the lake as she glided off of it, leaving no trace that she was ever there.

Tess stumbled as she hit hard dirt, and sat down clumsily as she undid her skates. She hopped to her right foot, hopping still as she tried to regain her balance, set her left foot down on the hard-packed dirt carefully, and she limped back to the Hermes cabin.

She wasn't aware that a certain son of Poseidon and daughter of Athena had watched the entire show with their mouths hanging open in shock.

* * *

Tess continued her nightly routine, freezing the lake in swirls, defrosting them, freezing the lake in some new swirls, dancing across the ice, her long black hair sometimes tied back in a long straight ponytail, sometimes loose and a wave of black and white churning through the air. Always, her blue eyes had a light shining in them while she danced and froze and defrosted. Her cheeks were flushed from the extertion and the cold; her long, nimble fingers had the ability to craft the delicate snowflakes that often swirled around her when she got mad at Conner or Travis or someone else in the Hermes cabin. She had wittily out-maneuvered the Ares cabin with their '_unofficial welcoming ceremony_' by freezing the water in the toliet and pipes, causing them to burst as the ice expanded the plastic beyond its limits. Everyone thought that she was Percy's sister for that one.

But no. She knew, unlike everyone else (or so she thought), that she was a daughter of the goddess of snow.

Percy and Annabeth had pleaded with Leo to talk to Tess, to which he had immediately objected to ("Fire and ice, people! All this is going to do is blow up in your faces!"). But after four days of pleading, Leo finally got out of bed and watched as the daughter of Khoine crafted her gazillionth masterpiece. He had to admit, it was fun and fascinating to watch her.

Then he stepped on a twig.

Ice roared towards him at the speed of a truck. Leo could barely erect a wall of flames before the ice hit it and melted somewhat, a snowball still managing to smack him in the face.

"Wow," Leo muttered. "You seriously look like your mom, except for the eyes."

Tess's eyes widened and prepared another snowball that was rock-hard. Leo held up his hands in defense. "Hey! Hey! I'm not here to hurt you, I promise!"

She didn't break her stance, eyeing the fire-user warily. Her voice had a lilting accent that Leo couldn't quite place. "What are you doing here?"

Leo didn't lie, seeing as how he was doing this frankly against his will. "A friend saw you dancing, and he asked me to talk to you. I've had bad encounters with your mom, and quite frankly her demigod brothers are idiots, so I don't have high hopes for you."

That was enough for her to lower her throwing arm. "Good. I don't like my mother either. But call me Ice Queen and I'll have to freeze you."

Leo raised an eyebrow skeptically. "All right, Snow Queen."

Tess facepalmed, her loose hair falling over her shoulders in a black curtain. "Technically, I'm a Snow Princess."

"Just because I work with technical stuff doesn't mean that I technically like technicalities," Leo said wryly. "My friend Piper, she's a daughter of Aphrodite, really plays down her looks, and yet I call her Beauty Queen 'cuz it annoys the heck out of her. So guess what, you're Snow Queen."

She looked irritated, but her eyes were light. "All right, Leo. If you get to make up an annoying nickname, then so do I, Repair Boy."

Leo choked, and started laughing. "Have you met Piper?"

Tess looked at him. "I generally stay away from the other half-bloods, seeing as I'm shunned for being lame and that my mother sided with Gaea. So no, I haven't met her."

Leo stepped onto the frozen part of the lake and moved quickly, knowing that his body heat would melt the ice. Too late, he fell through the ice with a splash, much to the amusement of Tess, who had her hand over her mouth.

"That's what you get for scaring me," she said between giggles.

Leo sputtered as he floundered in the surprisingly only cool water. "_You_ did that?!"

The daughter of snow rolled her eyes, gliding over towards the hole she created just for him. "Of course. The ice can hold my weight easily, and it could hold you, even as a fire user, for a good five minutes before thinning too far. Now come on."

Tess held out her hand, and Leo grasped it. Tess angled her skates parallel to the hole so that she wouldn't just go sliding in with him, and hauled him out of the cool water.

Leo huffed and walked towards dry land, and steam-dried himself, Tess following after him, the ice receeding from the lake with her. Ungracefully, she sat on the ground, taking her skates off. She hopped to her right foot, balancing for a second, and lowered her left foot cautiously to the ground.

"I want you to meet Beauty Queen," Leo said, taking her by the arm and dragging her towards the Aphrodite cabin. Tess rolled her eyes as he dragged her along, smiling ruefully. She still wished she was out on the ice, spinning and dipping and creating, but making new friends was okay too.

* * *

"C'mon, Tess!" Leo said. "The answer is right in front of you! Just try it. Just for an hour, okay? Please!"

"I'm not doing it in front of a bunch of strangers!" Tess protested vehemently.

Leo huffed. "At midnight, then! Heaven knows you sneak out anyway! But I'm watching."

Tess sighed in defeat. "On one condition."

Leo lit up, literally. Tess dumped the bucket of water that Leo had handed her over his head. Leo glared at her, sopping wet. "What is it?"

"Piper has to be there."

Tess thought that it would be an easy out. Piper would probably never agree to be dragged out of her bed at midnight just to see if Leo's idea would work. Unfortunately, Tess and Piper were now good friends, and Leo's idea involved how Tess could use her powers to get around camp better. No one would do a double-take on Tess using ice to get around—Jason flew around all the time, along with half the Hermes cabin. The younger kids at camp all had roller skates so they could keep up with the older kids. Ice skates? Eh. Whatever.

Well, maybe they would do a double-take. No one besides the Seven and Chiron knew that Tess Hima was a daughter of Khoine, and they all agreed that it was for the best until the gods decided to pick up their act and claim her. She was sixteen, for the gods' sakes!

Hence why the secrecy on Leo's Operation: Get Tess Walking Normally Again. But if this worked, even for a little bit, Tess would have an easier life in Camp Half-Blood, once she practiced enough to do it twelve to fourteen hours a day. Perhaps even longer.

It would hone her skills to the max.

* * *

**(Six months later)**

Tess whooped in delight, freezing water vapor close to the ground as she zipped along in her ice skates, leaving behind a narrow river of ice that went back into water vapor as soon as Tess was gone for five seconds, and leaving behind bewildered campers. A camper was straight in her path, and Tess concentrated, grinning, a ramp going up, up, up, over the half-blood, leaving Tess airborne for a few seconds as she sailing over an excited-slash-scared camper. She landed on ice, yelling, "Sorry!" over her shoulder at the shaking, but smiling, camper. She went around Piper so fast she got herself dizzy, and did the same thing to Piper as well, it seemed, as she staggered backwards, slipped on ice that hadn't quite melted yet, and landed ungracefully on her butt. Tess stopped sheepishly as she helped Piper up. "Sorry, Piper."

"It's okay," Piper said, brushing off her clothes. "I haven't seen you move this fast in weeks," she said mischieviously, her multi-colored eyes sparkling.

Tess frowned at her friend playfully. "Oh, shut up!"

Piper grinned.

"Operation: Get Tess Walking Normally Again is complete!" Leo exclaimed, clapping Tess on the back, grinning a maniac grin.

Tess poked him in the ribs. "And I tweaked that plan majorly, didn't I?"

He frowned at her. "Yeah."

"And besides," she wiggled her skates. "These aren't exactly the normal mode of transportation."

Leo snorted. "Neither is using flying shoes, horse legs, controlling the winds, or goat legs."

"Or pegasus," Piper put in.

"Jeez, Tess, you could've been part rocket the way you were zipping about," Percy said wryly, coming up. "For future reference, I think you should slow it down a little bit."

"Hey, first time I've done it in full daylight. I think I get to be a little joyous," Tess argued. Annabeth shrugged like, 'she's got a point'.

Annabeth grinned at her and presented Tess with a pair of boots, her stormy grey eyes sparkling. "I made these with the help of Leo and Piper and the Hecate cabin. Put them on."

Tess sat down on her patch of ice and tugged her skates off, and put the boots on. She stood up on the icy ground, and felt a little jump. Tess yelped like a kicked puppy, nearly losing her balance, much to the amusement of the others. "What the—" she started. Then she realized that she was on skates. "They turn into skates!"

Annabeth grinned. "Correct. Leo made the runners out of Celestial bronze, Piper and I made the boots—"

"Arguing over which was more Tess-style," Percy muttered. He got gently smacked on the back of the head for his troubles.

"—and we paid the Hecate cabin to charm the runners and boots together, so that the runners would only appear when they're touching your magic ice or ice that isn't just coating a street."

Tess grinned, and glided off of her ice patch, onto solid ground. No runners. She stepped back onto the ice, and felt the little jump. "Thank you, guys," she said softly, studying her new boots/skates. Annabeth hugged her, careful not to slip. "Hey, we're all cousins, right? We're family. We take care of each other. And besides, you did me and the whole Seven a favor by getting Leo out of his bunker every once in awhile."

Leo frowned. "Was I really in there that often?"

"Yes!" everyone chorused.

Leo backed off, holding his hands up. "Okay! Okay!"

Percy looked amused, just as Leo paled. "Can you imagine Percy and Tess on the same team in Capture-the-Flag?"

Two said teenagers looked at each other, both of them smirking. The rest of the Seven paled.

"I say the _worst stuff_," Leo squeaked.


	2. Memory? What Memory?

**29 August, 2005—Southern Mississippi**

Five-year-old Jindrich 'Jinx' Smith clung to the sturdy tree as the rushing, muddy water below him threatened to knock over whole houses. Already, most of the cast iron mailboxes of his neighborhood had been torn out of the ground, along with garden statues and cars and smaller trees.

Jinx's short blond hair was sticking up in every which way like he'd stuck his finger in an electric socket, but this was natural. So was the reddish tips that seemed to glow in the sunset. His purple eyes were bright with fear as he clung to the tree branch that was more than thick enough to support his little bit of weight.

His father shouted at him to climb higher, his light blue eyes darkened into an indigo color in fear and determination to make it out of this.

Stupidly, after Hurricane Ivan and nothing more than a few shingles ripped off, they'd stayed for Hurricane Katrina, thinking that'd it be the gutters full, lots of wind, and plants ruined. They weren't bargaining on thirty feet of water covering five miles inland of the Gulf Coast or having to climb the ancient tree in the neighborhood to survive.

Jinx tried to stand up, clinging to surrounding branches so that he wouldn't fall, and only made it halfway before a root of the oak snapped and the whole tree jerked. He slipped and fell—

—to be caught by strong, broad hands around his wrists.

He looked up fearfully. His father was upside down, clinging to his own tree branch by his legs, and holding onto his son with his hands, a look of determination warring with worry and relief and fear in his eyes. Slowly, slowly, Jinx's father pulled his son above him and set him on a sturdy tree branch, and then pulled himself up as well.

"Go!" Jinx's father yelled over the wind. "Go up!"

He stood, shifting his weight quickly, running across the tree branch. Said tree branch let out an enormous groaned, and it sagged.

"Daddy!" Jinx yelled, watching in horror.

"Go!" his father yelled, grabbing onto a sturdier branch. "I'm right behind ya!"

Jinx turned, and scrambled further up the tree. He waited for his father, but couldn't see him with the surrounding leaves. He whimpered. He didn't like being alone. "Daddy?"

Silence. "Daddy?!"

No response. "_DADDY?! DADDY, PLEASE!_"

His father never showed.

Not when the winds died.

Or when the water started going down.

He didn't show when Jinx had to make a gigantic leap for saftey when the ancient, battered oak finally went down with a mighty _CRASH_.

He didn't show, despite how much yelling Jinx did.

Nothing.

No one showed for the son of magic.

* * *

**Eight Years Old**

Jinx remembered his time on the ancient oak with startling clarity. He remembered his father's indigo blue eyes that showed fear and desperation, and his acrobatics that saved Jinx from most likely drowning, only to most likely drown himself not ten minutes later.

_"I'm right behind ya!"_

So not true, however much Jinx wished that to be true. The other orphans from the hurricane understood him, but others, including the adults, steered clear of him. The natural red tips on his hair refused to be washed out, no matter how much scrubbing the teacher did. Jinx actually found her frustrated face rather funny, even though it hurt when she was practically trying to rip his hair out. Cutting his hair didn't work all that well either: the red made itself known to the world by fading in for a week after she cut his hair. After that, she finally gave up on washing the red out. Jinx had tried to tell her that his hair had always been like that, but, of course, him only being six at the time, she hadn't believed him.

They basically gave up on his odd looks all together after six months of trying to catch him with his supposed contacts out, or trying to wash the 'dye' out of his hair. Jinx was having himself a good laugh at their attempts to make him normal. Even now, two and a half years later, he still let out a small laugh when he thought of it.

"'Ey, Jinx! Off to lala land, are ya?!" Max said, his mischievious brown eyes sparkling.

"Yer one ta talk," Jinx said mildly, smiling. "Was thinkin' 'bout when they tried ta make me 'normal'," Jinx said, putting air quotes around _normal_.

Max suddenly sobered. "Ya gettin' anythin'?"

Jinx frowned. "There was a candy shop that 'ad every kinda candy ya can dream of," he said uncertainly. "It was on a street with _huge_ oaks and was smushed in with a lot of otha' shops. I think there 'as a school at the end, 'cross from a park..."

Max's face lit up. "Chillun's Park! An' 'cross from that is a Catholic school. The candy...Candy Cottage!"

Jinx's purple eyes practically glowed. "That's on Washington Avenue," he whispered, grinning. "The paintin' on the wall 'as on the shop next to the Candy Cottage. There 'as a railroad truck that sold great snow cones a few streets o'er. There was Tadonuts, and the Mudshack, and—"

Max's eyes shone just as much as Jinx's. "And you could walk down that and reach Highway 90 and reach the beach—"

"—and swim out to the islands if ya wanted—"

"—or get a boat and sail over there, towin' a pinic basket—"

"I think I did that once!"

"Boys!" Mrs. Tesla said sharply.

"But—" Max started.

"—Mrs. Tesla—"

"—we're rememberin'!"

Mrs. Tesla's eyes softened a little. "Still, keep it down, boys. Amelia is right next door, and she needs sleep just as much as the two of you do."

"Ocean Springs," Max squeaked to Jinx, punching him gently on the arm. Jinx didn't make the effort to dodge it, just as excited as Max. He was practically vibrating with excitement. "Whoa, Jinx, chill out, your eyes are doing their weird purple-glowin' thing."

"Whoops," Jinx said sheepishly.

Max snickered. "Hey, rememba that pair o' shoes that were strung up o'er the power lines that went o'er Walmart?"

* * *

**Fifteen Years Old**

Jinx looked at his nook in a mixture of shock, disbelief, and horror. He was half-tempted to throw the device across the Hecate cabin to get it away from him. But he was frozen, staring in disbelief.

"Jinx? You okay?" Lou Ellen said, surprised at Jinx's pale face.

"He—" Jinx tried again. "Andre—"

Lou Ellen frowned, her iridescent green eyes narrowing in confusion. "Who's Andre?"

Jinx found himself explaining that Andre was a book character in Gargoyle Legends by Heather Flemming. When he was little, he was stuck in a sinking car with his mother beside him. She'd accidentally drove her car into a swamp. So, because Andre was a Gargoyle, he'd survived, but he'd watched his mother drown beside him. After the police got the car out of the water, his father, instead of comforting him, yelled at him to shut up. And he did. But for three years. Three straight years he didn't talk. So it was nearly for a full decade that Andre hated his father and did his best to avoid his family in Louisiana. But now, a decade later, a full decade of hating his father, Andre was told that Andre, after being pulled out of the drowned car alive, had told his father that he should've died too. His father, practically mad with fear and relief and grief, yelled at him to shut up, that if Andre had drowned too he would've had nothing to live for.

"It scares me Lou," Jinx confessed. "It scares me that Andre's situation and mine weren't so different. He didn't rememba most of his past. Neither do I. But Andre remembered the wrong thing, and it put his father in a bad light, and he'd hated his father for that. It scares me how _easily_ that coulda been me. I coulda hated my father. Do you know how _horrifyin'_ that idea is to me?"

Lou Ellen studied her half-brother's face. "Judging by your expression, yes. What's with the accent?"

Jinx raised an eyebrow. "I'm from Mississippi, Lou Ellen. Ya think you can get outta there without a bit o' an accent?"

Lou Ellen giggled as she tried imitating her younger half-brother. "I doan think so."

Jinx laughed outright, gripping her shoulder. "Tha's the spirit!"

**A/N:**

**Ok, yeah, shorter than the other. But this chapter is so sensitive to me that I almost didn't write it. I'm very much like Jinx and Andre. Actually, I was in tears because of that bloody book: Devil Water by Heather Flemming. Andre's situation could've been so _easily_ me. I could've been a heartless female dog (I refuse to explain that if you don't get it) who takes out her pain on others. I could've been a leader with an icy heart. And like I said to my friend last night at midnight, after I'd finished the book, it scares me. It scares me to the point of tears that I probably wouldn't have met her or any of my other friends. I probably would've followed in Andre's footsteps (running away) if that had happened to me. And it scares me so bad that I could've hated my parents.**

**Anyway, enough sap. The next one will be a daughter of an Elder Olympian, and I don't know what her disability is. If you have any questions on the book, review and I'll try to answer you.**

**See ya!**

**-Winter**

**P.S.-Anonymous, that isn't my profile picture. My profile picture is the ruins of Poseidon's temple in front of an orange moon. The skates just kind of make sense for the first chapter. I didn't really want to put a random disabled person for the cover. No. And though I'd love to learn, I don't figure skate.**


	3. Blind Big Three

Pale blue eyes stared at nothing as the baby squirmed in her mother's arms. Zeus sat down heavily, burying his face in his hands.

"Milord Lightnin'?"

It had become an ongoing game between the lover and his lady, when Zeus had had to reveal himself as a god after an unfortunate incident with a small army of _dracaenae_. Not believeing it, Emily had jokingly called him 'milord', imitating some of her Shakespearian novels that she loved. In response, not really thinking about it, he had called her 'milady', and the joke had pursued for a year now.

Emily wasn't famous or really, really pretty, like most of Zeus's lovers are. But what drew Zeus to Emily was her fearlessness of lightning, her little quirks like drawing in the rain with lightning flashing around her. She seemed almost _drawn_ to the dangerous substance, and most of her drawings normally depicted some sort of lightning flashing in the background. Then again, she lived in the South, which had horrendous thunderstorms every other day that aren't caused by him and always had at least one hurricane a year. To be frightened of lightning in the South is like being afraid of sand while in the Sahara.

"She's blind," Zeus said heavily.

_Another of my children..._

Emily looked unperturbed. "So? Plenty of blind people get along fine in the world."

Zeus looked at her, a little bit shocked. "Em, she's a _demigod_. She'll be fighting for her life in as little as six years. And she's _blind_."

Emily now looked annoyed. "Zeus, you're the lightnin' king. Every single livin' bein' emits an electromagnetic signal that is uniquely theirs. You're the god of the air, no? That includes airwaves, no? Whadaya think _radar_ is? She'll be okay, Zeus. I'll protect her until she's got the hang of it, okay?"

Zeus let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "With what? A baseball bat?!"

A mischievious smile crawled its way onto Emily's face, and she poked Zeus's arm. There was a distinct sound of an electrical discharge. Zeus jumped, staring at Emily like she was an alien. "I've been struck by lightnin' enough times that I pack a hell of a shock," she said, her eyes sparkling from Zeus's shocked (no pun intended) face. "An' let's face it, with my electromagnetic signal, I'll probably be struck another couple times before I see ya again. Lightnin' loves me."

"You stored up residual energy from the lightning?" Zeus asked, dumbfounded.

Emily thought about it. "Somethin' like that," she finally said. "I got the idea from Jennifer Bosworth's Struck. Lightnin' leaves bright red scars that go away after a day or two, right? The scars were always really really hot when I touched them, so just to see what would happen, I put a battery on the scars."

Zeus raised an eyebrow.

Emily looked a bit sheepish. "Yeah, that was kinda stupid. Long story short, the battery exploded on contact. So I kept my hands on the scars until they dissipated, and somethin' happened, like a transfer of energy or somethin'? Somethin' like that. An' look! I can shock the god of lightnin'!"

Zeus put his head in his hands and laughed at the irony.

* * *

"Raylen," Emily said softly, trying not to startle her. The six-year-old turned around clumsily, nearly knocking over a table. As if she realized that, she stepped away from the table. Emily looked at her child, startled. "Raylen, what just happened?"

"I was close to the table," she said childlishly, pointing in the direction of the table. "I got away."

Emily got what was going on all of a sudden. Her baby girl did unconsciously exactly what she told Zeus six years ago. "How did you know?"

The little girl's eyes showed confusion and frustration at what she was trying to say. "The air told me," she said finally, sounding like that wasn't exactly what was going on but that's the extent of her vocabulary.

"Okay, Ray. Would you like some breakfast?"

A smile lit up her face. "Yes, please!"

Emily scooted past her daughter to get into the kitchen. "Hmm," she said thoughtfully, tapping a finger to her cheek. "Would Raylen like some plain old cereal, or would she like some scrambled eggs and pancakes and bacon?"

"Pancakes!" Raylen cheered.

Stifling her laughter, Emily continued. "I think Raylen would like some plain old, yucky cereal."

Raylen started giggling. "No, Momma, I want some scrambled eggs and pancakes and bacon, please."

Emily smiled, even though her daughter couldn't see it. "Okay, Raylen. We'll have scrambled eggs and pancakes and bacon. Go pack your bookbag, okay?"

While Emily cooked, she started to get worried. From here on out it would get worse. Things not human would hunt Raylen, trying to kill her and eat her for lunch. Emily would protect her daughter, of course, until the last breath, but Emily wouldn't die unless Raylen was safe.

Raylen came plodding in with her dark grey bookbag that had blue-white lightning bolts drawn all over it, courtesy of Emily.

"Do you have your crayons?" Emily checked. Raylen nodded. "Your pencils?" Raylen nodded again. "What about your red pens?" Raylen hesitated, rummaged through her book bag, and pulled out two pens. They were black.

Gently, Emily plucked them out of Raylen's grip, and replaced them with red pens.

Raylen looked puzzled. "What's wrong with the other two?"

"They were black," Emily explained. "Do you have your homework booklet?"

Raylen nodded confidently, holding up her booklet.

"And you have your lunch," Emily said. "I should know, I packed it."

Raylen let out a small giggle and dragged her lunch box off the counter, and put them both next to the front door. Dragging her fingers along the wall lightly, she went over to the barstool and climbed up like it was a ladder. Raylen swung her feet with her hands under her thighs as her mother placed a pancake, some scrambled eggs, and two pieces of bacon in front of her.

After they were done eating, Emily took her daughter to school. A car swerved across eight lanes of moving traffic, aiming right for Emily and Raylen. "Hang on!" Emily screeched. She slammed her foot on the brake and jerked the wheel to the left. The car skidded to the right, turning a full ninety degrees. The car shuddered and stopped on the other side of the intersection. The car behind them had long braked when they saw the near-collision of the two cars, and the person inside had called nine-one-one.

The car that had tried to broadside Emily and Raylen roared off down a side street, abandoning the killing attempt.

Shaking, Emily turned around to face Raylen, whose face was white. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yes, Momma," she said, also shaking. "What happened?"

"We got away from the bad guys," Emily said soothingly. She got out of the car and nearly fell as her shaking legs nearly didn't support her. Emily opened the back door and picked up Raylen in her arms. She sobbed quietly into her mother's shoulder, shaking with fear.

The guy who called nine-one-one pulled up and got out of his car, his face pale. "The police will be here soon," he said, blinking rapidly.

Emily nodded at him, signalling that she did, in fact, hear him.

* * *

Raylen, like all six-year-olds, really didn't learn or understand what _tact_ was. So after all the police left and her mother set her on the ground, she seemingly looked up at the stranger who'd called nine-one-one and said, "You're different."

Emily paled, but not at her daughter's rudeness (though that was one factor as well). "It's okay, sweetie, the police will catch the bad guy," Emily said soothingly. "Why don't you get in the car, okay?"

Her daughter nodded, looking a bit confused, but still got in the car. Emily shut the door and positioned herself protectively in front of the door, staring down the sort-of stranger. "Lord Hermes," she acknowledged.

Hermes swore in surprise, backing up, his previously brown eyes flashing blue. "Damn," he said, eyebrows raised. "Father was right, you are quick."

"It was my daughter who tipped me off," Emily said coolly. "Not to mention your electromagnetic levels are off the charts. You sure you haven't been struck by lightning?"

The god raised his right eyebrow higher. "No wonder Zeus loved you."

"He was pretty shocked," Emily said, smirking a little bit. "One time literally."

Hermes's eyebrows were now somewhere in his hair. But then they settled back into their natural position, his face taking a somber note. "She needs to go to camp. Although I'm impressed with your driving skills to get rid of the hellhound, that won't last forever."

Emily's expression turned guarded. "Where is your camp?"

Hermes didn't sugar-coat it. "Long Island, New York."

"No," she said immediately. "I refuse to uproot her in the middle of the school year. Plus it's freaking _New York_. My salary down here would hardly pay for a burger in New York, let alone an apartment. I can't afford it. And even if I could, I still wouldn't do it. Raylen's used to it down here, she knows most of the people, and Mississippi isn't exactly the ideal place for a mugger. 'Cause honestly, they're more likely to slip in the mud and fall on their face. And I won't be catered to."

Hermes's face had turned dry. "You hardly let Zeus in while you were giving birth to her. I told him that I can't imagine you just letting him pay for the house or apartment or even just put food on the table."

"I'm not going to New York."

"I wasn't asking twice, I've heard too many stories about your stubborness," Hermes said dryly.

"And if he has trouble accepting that I'm not going to New York, tell him to not shoot the messenger and confront his old lover about it. See how far he gets then," she said, an evil smile creeping onto her face.

Hermes looked a little bit wary. "No thanks, I'm good."

Then he vanished.

* * *

Raylen was laughing her head off when she staggered into her home. Emily peeked her head around the doorway to see her thirteen-year-old daughter, who was clutching her baseball bat and using it as a cane, she was laughing so hard.

"Okay, what's so funny?" Emily asked, amused as her daughter finally collapsed on the floor, gasping.

"Fried...baseball..."

Emily let out a little laugh. "What?"

Raylen sat up, heaving, giggles escaping every once in a while still. She rummaged through her bookbag and pulled out a plastic baggie of ash and charred leather. Emily gaped. "The _heck_?!"

"Playing baseball with some of my guy friends, who were betting how many times I could hit the ball. I hit it the first time, and the second time, and the third time, and then I can't even remember what he said that got me mad, but the next thing I knew there was a crack of the ball hitting the bat, a loud pop, a sizzle, and then a fluttering sound...Dan, the guy who said something stupid, gulped, and the people on the bus were making cracks about the incident and the look on Dan's face."

Emily laughed. "Try not to make a habit of that, okay?" Her daughter joined her in laughing for another thirty seconds, and suddenly Raylen was quiet. "What's that noise?"

Emily frowned. "What noise?"

Raylen looked weirded out. "It sounds like hissing, like snakes. Really big snakes. But I've never encountered a snake down here, except for that garden snake when I was little."

"The one where you scared me out of my skin because you had new bracelets?" Emily said dryly.

"Yeah, that one," Raylen said, distracted, edging towards the door. "It's, like, not thirty feet away from us," she said, puzzled.

Then the door exploded. Raylen screamed and swung her bat, nailing one of the snake-women-things in the chest. Emily launched into a flip, coming down solidly on one of the snake-women's head, and she broke into dust. Raylen swung wildly again, and knocked one of the snake-women's head clean off. Emily snap-kicked the remaining monster, elbowed her in the nose, and pushed her down the stairs where she disintegrated as she rolled down the steps.

Raylen lowered her bat, tense. "Where did they go?"

"They turned into dust," Emily said, puzzled. She swore once, and grabbed her daughter by the shoulders with startling intensity. Raylen gasped and tried to back away, but Emily's grip was like steel. "Have there been any more attacks like this? Strange events? Weird sensings?"

"Th-there was a snake that I hit with my bat last year that I didn't realize that it wasn't a baseball until someone went over and found the limp snake," Raylen stuttered. "There was this guy that stalked me on the playground four years ago, he was like that guy that called nine-one-one after that near accident. Another time I had a woman of the same kind walk up to me and talk about my father."

There were many, many more stories that Raylen told her mother, some she knew. Emily grew more and more worried. "We're moving after this year is over," she finally said, releasing her daughter and sagging into an armchair. "They've finally found you."

Raylen looked like her mother had slapped her across the face. "What?! But everything I know is here! Who's found me?! Why do we have to move?! Where the heck are we moving _to_?!"

Emily buried her head in her hands. "New York," she said, defeated. "And I will tell you everything about your father after we move, and why you have so many strange events in your life."

Raylen still looked like she'd gotten slapped.

* * *

Emily stared into space, her eyes a thousand miles away, fourteen years before the present. "Your father never wanted to leave. Even now, I think he watches us, makes sure we're mostly safe. His brothers still would freak out about you, even with the wars over."

Raylen 'watched' her mother's aura. She listened to her mother's pained voice. Raylen desperately wanted to ask questions, but she felt like her mother was crossing into forbidden territory in her mind, and she didn't know how to comfort crying people. So she stayed quiet.

"And even with the wars over, peace reigning for now, I still have to question your cousin. Huh. I'm an aunt to a god," Emily said, sounding faintly surprised and amused.

Raylen did a double take. "_Excuse_ me?!"

"Your father was a god," Emily said plainly.

Raylen stared in the general direction of her mother, her mouth gaping open a bit. "Look, I get that my father was hot, but _seriously_?"

"Your father was a Greek god," Emily repeated, waiting for it to sink in, watching her daughter's reaction with a bit of amusement. "Most people can't sense electromagnetic signals, even if they are blind. I only can because I've been struck by lightning more times than I can remember."

Raylen was unmoving. She didn't even seem to be breathing. "Are you done pysching me out?"

"No," Emily said. "Mostly because I never started."

Raylen sat there for a good two mintues. "My father was a god."

"_Is_ a god," Emily corrected.

"He's probably watching my reaction with extreme amusement."

"Uh-huh."

"He's the reason I have all those weirdoes on my tail."

"Uh, sort of."

"You kept this a secret for thirteen and a half years."

"Would you have believed me after meeting regular kids?" Emily questioned, yanking her head up to face her daughter, her eyes blazing.

Raylen's eyes were filled with confusion and hurt. "Yes! Oh my god, _yes_! I would've believed you! It would've been better than having thought that some random guy with radiation screwed you over!"

Emily blinked.

"It would've been better, having to have fought those things that invaded the house six months ago for the rest of my life, knowing my heritage was not just some wacko but a god who's hunted by things that are anything but _human_!" she screamed in frustration. "I've come close to _suicide_ because the kids at school teased me because of my lack of father! You don't know _anything_ about what the information you just gave me could've done a decade ago!"

Emily swallowed, her eyes full of fear. "Raylen—"

"_NO_!" Raylen screamed, her voice quivering. "_No_! I am _not_ asking why we moved to New York of all places, jerking me out of a society that I'd had for thirteen years! I don't even want to know who the hell my father is! I want to know _who gave you the right to keep this from me_?!"

"You were blind, if you had known, your scent would've strengthened and you would've had direct encounters long before you were six," Emily said quietly. "I had to protect you, even if it meant turning you against me when I did tell you."

Raylen's eyes were full of tears and hurt and bewilderment. "I _hate _you!"

Emily watched her go, knowing that if she followed she'd only make it worse. "Zeus, protect her, please," Emily pleaded to the empty room, twin tears running down her face.

* * *

Raylen screamed, startled, as a dragon appeared out of seemingly nowhere on her radar. Someone wrapped their arms around her, and she instinctively jerked her head back to crush his nose. She stomped on his foot, breaking his instep, elbowed him in the solar plexus, and kicked backwards into his groin.

Whoever it was swore violently and slightly squeakily. Raylen bolted towards the dragon, figuring that she had a fifty-fifty chance of it being friendly.

"What the— Who the Hades are you?!" someone asked, sounding incredulous.

"If you want to attack me, I'm a very dangerous person. If you don't, kudos to you. I'm Raylen."

The unfamiliar person seemed to flounder a bit. "You're a demigod, right?"

"Father's a Greek god, mother's a mortal," I summed up. "Yeah, if that's what a demigod is. And if you think I'm nuts, I don't blame you."

"Uh...no, I don't think you're nuts," they said hesitantly. "Are you blind?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you're what—thirteen? You've survived this long, bl—HOLY CRAP! You're a Big Three!"

"Uh, what?"

* * *

Raylen sat next to the sea, her knees drawn up to her chin. She'd made up with her mother, and Emily had gotten a high-paying job that would have them get by easily. But she didn't really belong at camp, even if people accomodated her disability. Raylen had made friends with a daughter of Khoine who had a foot that hadn't healed right when it had been broken.

"You don't have to stay here," Tess said gently, gliding up behind her.

Raylen hesitated. "I don't want to put Mom in danger."

Tess snorted. "From what I've heard, your Mom's too awesome to get that badly hurt. She has more control over lightning than you do, anyway."

"No kidding," Raylen muttered. "Even gods back down from her. I got to see that happen in person when I was six and then again when I was thirteen."

"See? Your Mom will be fine. Besides, you have a real weapon now, and you can actually mostly see," Tess said. "You got by your disability like I did."

* * *

The daughter of Zeus stepping into her mother's apartment hesitantly. "Mom?"

"Raylen?"

Emily came around the corner with a pencil in her hand, a grin crossing her face. "You're home!"

**A/N: **

**Not my best work, especially the ending. But I like the reappearance of Tess. I liked doing Tess.**

***coughs* so, yeah, canon characters didn't really make an appearance...I think I get carried away with my OCs sometimes...whoops.**

**Thanks to Kenzie Jade (Guest) for the blind Big Three idea!**

**So, um...bye?**

**-Winter**


	4. Dreams Suck

_—falling, falling, images racing by—_

_—grasping her hand in my own crushing grip—_

_—the ground finally coming closer, and closer, and CLOSER—_

A scream tore out of the throat of Heia, daughter of Morpheus. She bolted upright on her bed, her midnight blue eyes checking the analogue clock next to her bed. 2:38 AM.

Heia cursed.

She threw her jacket over her shoulders and ran barefooted into the Poseidon cabin. Annabeth Chase was already there, trying to wake the son of Poseidon up. She looked startled at Heia's disheveled appearance. Probably instinctively, she angled herself between Percy and Heia. "What are you doing here at this hour?" she said, bewildered and wary.

"I can help. Move!" she said urgently, shoving the taller girl out of her way. Annabeth hovered next to the two of them as Heia put her hand on Percy's forehead and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Slowly, slowly, Percy's thrashing stopped. His breathing went from shallow and panicked to deep and peaceful.

Heia fell backwards onto her butt and started shaking with exhaustion. Annabeth looked a mixture of relieved and stunned. "You're the newbie that got here today. Or rather, yesterday, actually. How did you—?"

Heia summoned a half-hearted glare. "There are demigods that _do_ know how to use their powers before camp. You were one of them, weren't you?"

Annabeth stepped backward, into Percy's bed.

"I'm leaving. You can deal with your boyfriend's nightmares by yourself if I'm just going to be interrogated afterwards," Heia said coldly. She used the bunk bed to help herself up, and then walked unsteadily to the door, into the night, back to her cabin.

She left Annabeth standing next to her peacefully sleeping boyfriend looking a bit ashamed.

* * *

—_its coming, coming, you have to run, run faster—_

_—"She wanted you to have this."—_

_—a blond woman with eerie green eyes grasping you, shaking you, speaking of a son no longer—_

The look on the woman's face jerked Heia back to reality, huffing and panting with fear. Why do demigods have so many _nightmares_? This was getting ridiculous!

Heia was starting to sleep in jeans and a t-shirt with a jacket nearby because she'd wake up once or twice a night from—overhearing?—a demigod's nightmare that scared the heck out of her. It ranged from Tartarus to seeing someone die right in front of them to falling off a cliff to spiders to something completely weird.

She threw on her jacket and ran to the Hades cabin. Besides the first time she did it with Percy, she hadn't gotten caught.

It was terrifying, really, how much worse her demeanor was because of her lack of sleep. Or maybe she was still irritated with Annabeth. Who knows. Heia had always been rather dark and shy, maybe because she could read people so well it freaked them out. Their dreams, their nightmares, their wishes, their fears, their hates and loves. It was just a little too much for people to comprehend, and generally stayed away. It was coupled with the fact that Heia could also hardly keep her mouth shut.

But if people could get past the 'she knows too much holy crap' phase, and then the 'she's trying to drive me off, why?' phase, they'd find a person who had a great sense of humor and unswerving loyalty.

Heia cherished the friends she'd made, mainly because she'd had so few. Two, to be exact. The only two that knew she'd run away after her mother spent all her time sleeping, trying to find Morpheus again. The two that now have no idea where she was.

She knelt next to the son of Hades's bed and put a hand on his forehead, and drew the nightmare out of his head. She shuddered as the nightmare transferred to her, Percy telling him about his sister dying, them talking to the weird lady with glowing eyes, the monsters that constantly haunted him in the Labyrinth. The Nico similarly shuddered and his breathing evened out.

Heia fell backward, panting, and scrambled out of the cabin.

* * *

She stared at the phone in her hand. With shaking fingers, she dialed the numbers she knew by heart.

_"Hello?"_

"Hey, Whitney."

_"...Heia?! Oh my god, are you okay?! Sean, I've got Heia on the phone!"_

"Hey, wait, Whitney, do you have a place I can crash?"

_"Sneak in through my window, I still live in the same place. Where the heck are you?"_ Sean's voice said.

"Sean, holy crap, you're voice is almost unrecognizable," Heia said, floored. "I'm in New York."

_"C'mon over! Tell us about the big city!" _Whitney said, excited. _"'Course, you'll have to sleep under my bed, my parents won't appreciate my harboring a runaway."_

"I can sleep just about anywhere nowadays. Just somewhere where there aren't any nightmares, please. I'll be there around midnight or so."

_"I haven't had a nightmare since I was seven, so you're safe. No eavesdropping on my dreams though, girl. That was a little freaky the last time you slept over,"_ Whitney said.

Heia snorted. "I actually found out why I could do that. I'll tell you two when I get there. Right now I'm probably sending up all kinds of flares, and warning: it sounds absolutely nuts. I'll see you soon."

_"See ya,"_ Sean said, and they hung up the phone.

* * *

Heia clambered up the tree and through Whitney's open window. The red-head helped her through the window, practically bouncing in excitement. Her more stoic counterpart smiled at seeing Heia after almost a year. Heia stumbled when she got all the way into the room, sinking onto the bed. She shook her head abruptly to keep herself awake.

"Hey, you okay?" Sean said, moving forward to steady Heia.

"Yeah," Heia said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I've just been on the run from authorities, been kidnapped by crazy kids, been curing people with the worst nightmares I've ever seen, and then I ran again because of all the nightmares. No biggie."

Sean stared at Heia, while Whitney covered her mouth, her grey eyes sparkling with laughter.

"All righty then," Sean said finally.

"Tell us about the city!" Whitney gushed. "Is it as beautiful as its pictures?"

Heia smiled at her friend's obsession with architecture. "Yes, and then some. You don't really get the name 'skyscrapers' until you feel about as insignificant as a bug. They're all so tall, and in a storm you can actually see the Empire State Building waving in the gale. But it smells horrid, filled with a mixture of car exhaust and pretzel vendors and people, and you don't really get to see the sky very well."

"What about the thing relating to your ability to sneak into people's dreams or nightmares?" Sean asked, sitting down on the floor. Even sitting down and Heia on the bed, he still came up to her chest. Whitney perched on the arm of the couch, drawing her legs up under her chin.

Heia's expression darkened. "You guys know the Greek myths?"

Sean cracked a smile. "Let me guess, they aren't myths?"

Whitney stared at Sean, while Heia laughed outright at Whitney's face, Sean joining her. "Uh-huh," Heia gasped out. "And what's the most common thing they did back in the old days?"

"Ooh! I know this! They had children with regular humans, and they called the half-god children demigods," Whitney said excitedly. Then she turned her gaze slowly onto Heia, incredulousness in her gaze. "You're a—"

Heia clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm trying to _not_ attract monsters right now. You invoke the name of the children of the gods again with one in the vicinity, your house will be razed to the ground with a mixture of fire and acid with most likely no survivors. Got it?"

"Which one?" Sean asked, wary of Heia reacting violently again.

Heia hesitated. "Minor god. Morpheus, god of dreams."

Sean started, pausing in unscrewing his water bottle. "That's why your mom—"

"Yes," Heia said curtly.

"And how you can do the nightmares thingy—" Whitney said, muffled.

"Uh-huh. Sean's a clearsighted mortal," Heia said bluntly, taking her hand off of Whitney's mouth.

Sean, mid-swig, spewed his water. "_Excuse_ me?!"

Heia burst out laughing at his expression, practically falling off the bed that she'd settled back on. When she finally calmed down enough, albeit with giggles coming out every once in awhile, she said, "You aren't a demigod, but you can see the monsters and the powers of the demigods for what they really are."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "Okay. That explains why I've thought that I've gone crazy a couple times."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Whitney said, hurt.

"You wouldn't have believed him," Heia said dryly. "Him seeing things that aren't there or are random people? Uh, I don't really blame him for not telling anyone. Even for demigods, its good to have a clearsighted mortal near, because we're just as easily susceptible to be tricked as a random mortal."

Whitney eyed her two friends. "Okay, screw it. Frankly, I've been through weirder than finding out that my friend is a demigod and my other friend can see stuff that most others can't but really are there. What else do I need to know?"

"Demigods are apt to attract monsters. You know Hercules's Twelve Labors with all those monsters and stuff? Remember Perseus and Andromeda?"

Sean looked a bit green in the face. "Like the lion with impenatrable fur and the nine-headed snake?"

Heia nodded. "There's a camper that's done basically everything. Do you remember the Cyclops's jailer?"

"The dragon lady?" Whitney piped up.

"He's defeated her. You can probably name a monster or bad guy and he's either seen it and survived it; seen it, fought it, and survived it; or gone up against it and won," Heia said, half-proud, half-exasperated, and maybe a little bit bitterly. Percy Jackson has the worst nightmares the most frequently.

Sean looked dubious. "Primordials?"

"Two," Heia said. "That I know of, anyway."

"The gods' predecessors?" Whitney asked.

"Sent four of them back into eternal punishment," Heia said automatically.

"Mother of Monsters?" Sean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Survived her and her son with only a week of training, but didn't exactly win," Heia said.

Whitney huffed. "Regular monsters?"

"By the hundreds."

Sean was now looking incredulous. "Gods?"

"At least two."

"And he _won_?" Whitney shrieked quietly.

Heia nodded, laughing a little.

Sean thumped his head with the palm of his head, muttering, "What else, what else? Oh! What's his parentage?"

"Son of Poseidon. Don't ask me to put his titles, we'll be here all night," Heia said dryly.

"I can imagine," Sean muttered. "Well, actually, no, I can't imagine doing all that."

Heia flopped backwards on Whitney's bed. "He's actually the one that I had to leave. Don't get me wrong, Percy's awesome, he's modest, loyal, and friendly with just about everyone, but he's been through too much in his eighteen years." Heia lifted her head and looked straight at her two friends. "He's been in two wars, guys. _Two_. Two wars in a two-year time period. His nightmares..."

She curled up in on herself, just thinking about it.

Whitney's face was white.

* * *

"_Mo-om_," Whitney whined, just outside the door. "My room looks fine."

Heia woke, grabbed a spare curtain rod, and rolled under Whitney's bed, and curled up, placing shoeboxes around herself to block more of herself from other's view.

Whitney's mother opened the door, Whitney following. "Fine?! Fine?! Your bed is unmade, shoes are everywhere, and your laundry isn't done! And your desk—good heavens, it looks like a tiny tornado went through all this papers!"

"It's _drawings_, not just papers!" Whitney protested, aggravated.

There was the sound of someone rifling through papers. "Greek mythology, fairies, Egyptian mythology, mermaids, fish, owls, a random pair of wings, a hammer, portraits of people, who is this?"

"Well, at least they're recognizable," Whitney muttered.

"Don't you dodge the question, young lady! Who is this?!"

Heia assumed that Whitney was glaring at her mother. "You of all people should know, _Mother_. You practically adopted her. That is Heia, my best friend. My adopted sister."

Dead silence.

"Oh...oh my god...you've seen her recently? She looks this bad?" Whitney's mother seemed to be on the verge of a heart attack.

Whitney said sarcastically, "No, Mom, she's just on the run. She's perfectly fine."

"We can take her in! You know where she is, don't you?"

"Mom, the police are after her! She's a _runaway_. She doesn't want to be found," Whitney said, exasperated.

"So? I'd sooner murder someone than turn her into the authorities!" Whitney's mother said vehemetly. "Besides, the police have searched the house a dozen times, there's no reason they'd suspect her to come back here, _now_."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Whitney at her mother's statement.

"It's up to her. If she wants to stay here, that's okay by me and you. But what about Dad?" Whitney said uncertainly.

"He'll be fine with it."

"If she's okay with it..."

Heia silently pushed the boxes away from her and crawled out from under the bed and stood up. Whitney had her mother's back to the bed. "I don't mind," she said softly.

Any other time, the reactions would've been funny. Whitney's eyes went wide and she signalled 'abort mission' about a dozen times. Her mother whipped around, startled at the sudden addition of a third voice. "Heia! Oh my god... Where did you come from?"

"We weren't sure about you harboring a runaway in the house," Whitney said guiltily. "But she really needed a place to crash."

"Hi, Mrs. Hawkins," Heia gave a little wave. "I was under the bed. I was on top of the bed before you came in the room."

"Why do you have a curtain rod?" Whitney asked, bewildered.

Heia looked sheepish. "I didn't know if she'd be accepting of me, or if I'd be caught under the bed. If Mrs. Hawkins started for the authorities I'd have to knock her out, and a curtain rod was the nearest implement that would work the best."

"Oh, girls, I'd never turn Heia in," Whitney's mother said, looking a mixture of horrified and amused.

"Because you've run away yourself," Heia noted to herself.

The two women in front of her looked like fish.

"How did you—"

"Mom?!"

"Crap," Heia muttered. "Me and my big mouth."

Whitney's mother seemed to have recovered. "Yes, once. I got caught, as well. The authorities aren't nice to runaways."

"What happened?" Whitney demanded, looking shocked.

Whitney's mother bowed her head. "I got into something I wasn't supposed to, and your grandfather hit me clear across the face. I ran away that night with a bruise spanning from my left eye to my chin."

Whitney's vocal chords seemed to have broken. Heia was expressionless. "Your father wanted to make sure you wouldn't get into it again," Heia surmised.

Whitney's mother shrugged. "Something like that."

Whitney blinked. "Alrighty then."

* * *

_—a flooded street with no road in sight—_

_—two anonymous people in the front seat, bickering and groaning—_

_—the roar of water gets closer and _closer_ and _CLOSER—

—_the car tips over the side of an unseen cliff, sending all the occupants into screaming fits—_

"Whitney!" Heia said groggily, rolling out of bed and landing ungracefully on the floor. "The heck?! I thought you said that you haven't had a nightmare since you were seven!" She clumsily put her hand on Whitney's forehead and dispelled the dream.

The daughter of Morpheus sank against the floor, tired beyond belief. She was out before her head hit the floor.

* * *

"—seriously, Sean? You knocked her out?"

"She was screaming curses at you, Whitney, I didn't know if she was going to whack you over the head with that curtain rod she had earlier!"

"She has really tame nightmares compared to the people at camp," Heia grumbled, moving stiffly off the floor. "Doesn't mean it isn't annoying to be woken up by yet _another_ dream that _isn't mine_!"

"Do you have any idea how nuts that sounds?" Whitney asked, laughing a little.

"Do you have any idea how little I care?"

"Burn," Sean snickered.

"And you shut your mouth, Bosworth, unless you'd like to see what it feels like to be me tonight," Heia said stonily.

Before Sean could open his mouth with a retort, Whitney's mother called out: "Breakfast, you three! Get down here!"

Heia smirked and got off the floor, striding towards the door of Whitney's bedroom with inhuman speed. Whitney blinked at where her friend used to be. Sean's eyebrows were lost in his hair.

"C'mon, Sean, Whitney!" Heia yelled. "Jeez!"

They scrambled downstairs to be greeted by an odd sight. Mr. Carson, Whitney's father, was hugging Heia, who was being slightly crushed. She awkwardly patted her friend's father on the back, emitting a noise like a strangled goose. "Uh, I think you can let me go now!" she squeaked.

"I haven't seen you in over a year—"

"I already got the memo from Mrs. Carson!" Heia said, gasping for air. "_Please_!"

Mr. Carson seemed to realize that he was strangling her, and released his choke-hold on her. Heia sagged, gasping like a landed fish, one hand on her chest. "Holy crap," she wheezed.

"Sorry," he said, looking not at all abashed.

"Dad, jeez," Whitney said, looking at her friend who was on her knees.

Whitney's mother came in and saw the scene. "What did I miss now?!"

* * *

A knock came at the door the next morning. Whitney shoved Heia under the bed, who yelped in surprise. Whitney sat on her bed and took out her phone, pretending to be like any other teenager.

"I'd like to see Heia."

That sentence sent the entire family plus Sean into a frozen stance. Heia, however, perked up. "Chiron?" She scrambled out from under the bed and raced towards the door. "Chiron?"

The old centaur smiled up at her, sitting in his wheelchair. "Hello, child."

"What are you doing here?"

The old mentor of heroes's eyes seemed to sadden. "I'm making sure you're okay."

"I can't go back to camp," she said quickly. "I'm okay here."

Chiron nodded. "I know. I can arrange the adoption papers. But I needed to see for myself."

Behind Heia, Whitney gave a gasp of surprise. Heia turned around, hearing her friend's gasp, to see a huge grin sliding over her face. Whitney tackled the demigod in a hug. "We're going to be sisters!" they both yelled at the same time.

"You already are," Sean said, laughing. "Blood relations and legal matters aside, you two already are."

"You'll come back once a month for training, correct?" Chiron asked.

Heia bit her lip, but nodded. "I'll need to handle myself."

The centaur smiled.

* * *

Heia grinned as she whipped her staff around, holding it with both hands. Nico's Stygian Iron sword bit into the silver staff, making a tiny dent in the metal, adding to all the other tiny dents. Heia spun, gathering momentum, and launched a flurry of swipes towards the son of Hades, making him back up. He kept forgetting that Heia could use both ends, and Heia took full advantage of that. She conked him on the head, and he went down instantly. She placed her staff at his throat, kicking away his sword, patiently waiting for him to wake up in a couple seconds. As if on cue, he groaned. "You win. _Again_."

Heia coughed to hide her laughter. "You keep forgetting that I can use both ends." She helped him up.

"Right," Nico muttered, rubbing where Heia had conked him.

"You're used to fighting against a sword, against Percy, or maybe even against Annabeth," Heia explained. "You're used to sharp objects with only one end to be used frequently. Not blunt objects with two ends to be used at all times."

"Considering that you've whooped my butt twenty-three times in a row, I think I'll agree," the son of Hades muttered.

Heia picked up Nico's sword, and tossed him her staff, which he caught in surprise. "I find it easier to fight against a weapon if you have a feel of its style in your own hand," Heia said, readying the Stygian Iron sword. "You're more experienced than I am, more skilled than I am with a sword, but you haven't a clue on how to even hold a staff correctly. It isn't a hiking stick," she said, laughing a little, watching him try to figure out how to hold it without it seeming awkward. She finally shrugged. "It's hardwired into your instincts and blood, Nico. I guess we can do this the hard way."

Nico's eyes shot towards Heia when she said that, but she was already mid-swing, mid-air, armed with his own sword. The staff angled itself in front of the blade, catching the sword, stopping Heia in her tracks. Nico stared at the staff, which he just realized was in his hands. Heia snorted at his stunned expression.

She pressed forward, launching a series of swipes and slashes, and Nico narrowed his eyes as he watched her come. She slashed, and he maneuvered the staff so that the strike slid off of it. Nico whipped around, launching his own attack, the staff spinning in his hand. He swiped low, connected with her ankle, swiping the feet out from under Heia, and struck downwards. His attack was met with the Stygian Iron sword, and Heia struggled to press his attack away. She suddenly rolled, and Nico stumbled from the sudden lack of resistence. He turned around just in time to block another swipe, and jabbed the end of the staff into her gut in a very Roman maneuver, rending her breathless. Nico spun, kicked his sword out of her hand, and knocked her to the ground.

His face was two inches from hers as he held the staff at her throat. "Yield?"

Panting, she nodded, smiling. He helped her up.

"Holy..._crap_. Remind me never to make you mad!"

Heia turned. Sean and Whitney stood at the entrance of the arena. Sean had his jaw at his knees. Heia stifled a laugh. "Nico, this is my sister, Whitney, and my friend Sean. Whitney, Sean, this is Nico."

"Hi," Whitney said. "I'm used to her practicing in our room," she said by way of explanation of her lack of a stunned face. "I didn't know she knew how to use a sword as well."

"I prefer my staff," Heia said, grinning impishly. "What are you two doing here?"

Sean shook his head. "Chiron offered us to come see what you do when you disappear for a day or two. Holy crap."

Heia laughed. "It's an awesome camp until night falls and nightmares start."

Nico grimaced. Sean noticed. "Are you her half-brother or...?"

Heia looked mortified. She and Nico glanced at each other, disgust written all over their faces. "No!" Heia said vehemently. She looked a little green around the edges. "Nico as a brother?"

"Ew," Nico said mildly. "I'm a son of Hades, not Morpheus. Our fathers are from the same realm, but, um...no. Just...no."

Whitney looked thoughtful. "Big Three? Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus. Okay, that makes sense. Sort of."

Sean looked confused. "I'm not following."

"Neither am I," Heia said.

Nico shook his head. "Nope."

Whitney frowned. "Wasn't Hades related to Morpheus? Grandson or something like that?"

Heia and Nico groaned. "Don't even bring up the family tree," Heia moaned. "All the gods are related to each other in some form or another. Don't even bother."

Sean snickered.

* * *

_—falling, falling, falling—_

_—poisonous air, too hard to breathe—_

_—aware, but unable to awake—_

Heia swore as she fell out of bed. "This is why I don't sleep here! Gods!" she yelled at no one in frustration.

She bolted for the Hades cabin. The door crashed against the wall as she barreled through the door, cursing under her breath in frustration. Amazingly, Nico still didn't wake up. Heia practically slapped her hand on Nico's forehead and dispelled the dream.

"The heck?" Nico asked groggily.

"Sorry. You were having another nightmare," Heia said, rubbing her head. "Go back to sleep."

She shut the door quietly behind her.

* * *

"Gods, I hate this," Heia mumbled into her pillow as Whitney bandaged her legs. "I want some dream-proof walls for my birthday, Whitney."

The red-head blinked at the random request. "Gotcha. But if you don't shut up, I'm gonna clobber you over the head with your own staff. Or better yet, the curtain rod," she said, her grey eyes laughing at the long-held joke.

"Oh, shut up, sis."

**A/N:**

**I swear I meant to do a boy. Oh, well. I'll do one next chapter. **

**4,292 words, people! Awesome!**

**This chapter was a little bit different than the others, mainly because Heia (pronounced Hey-uh) doesn't _have_ a physical disability, and that her disability came from her powers, rather than her powers helping her get over the disability. I actually like this one. The last one was a little bit iffy.**

**Allons-y! (I think I spelled that right)**

**-Winter**


	5. Frayed Nerves—Literally

**Just so you guys know, an ****_ambulance_**** is also sometimes referred to as a ****_bus_****. That'll be in here, so don't get confused. **

"Today we have two new students, Jared and Dagon," the teacher said, looking a bit mystified as the two said boys rose, impish grins on their faces.

The one with the red hair snickered at the teacher's confused face. "Fraternal twins," he explained. "I'm Jared. The dumb blond next to me is Dagon."

Dagon put his hand to his throat in mock-hurt. "My dear sir, you wound me! Doth thee any manners?!"

Jared answered with a flat, "No," which simply put the class into hysterics at Dagon's attempt at Old English and Jared's unimpressed face.

"Dear god," one of the girls said between giggles, fanning her red face. "I'd swear you two were Fred and George or something!"

"Fred and George were funnier," one of the others argued. "But I have to agree that—what's his name again? Oh!—Jared does look like one of the twins."

"Hi," Dagon said, waving his hand not-so-subtly.

"We're kind of—" Jared started.

"Standing right here?" Dagon finished.

The one that argued with the other girl looked at the two dubiously, then turned to the first girl, "Uh, maybe not..."

The twins flashed identical grins, mischievous glints in their bright green eyes.

Meanwhile, the teacher was debating on whether to groan or grin.

* * *

"Ah!" Jared gasped in shock, hunching over. Dagon turned around, looking at his twin in bewilderment, "What the heck, man?"

"I don't know," Jared said, slowly straightening up. "It felt like someone was trying to split my spine with a dull dagger or something."

Dagon frowned. "It might be a side-effect of the..."

"Yeah," Jared said breathlessly. "Don't remind me."

"I doubt either of us want to re-visit that," the blond pointed out grimly.

Jared snorted at his brother's tone of voice. "Dude, any more grim and you'll be Hades."

Dagon glared at him, his grass-green eyes taking on an annoyed glint. "Oh, don't even pull that card out."

"Too late."

"Shut up, would you?"

Just like the first day, Jared replied with a flat, "No."

* * *

The red head cried out softly and then bit his lip as he attempted to get out of his desk. Pain throbbed through every nerve of his being, making him feel like he was being slow-broiled or something, with a miniature sun about halfway down his spine. _Oh my god_, Jared thought, feeling like he was being strangled by lava. He hadn't felt this bad since...

Dagon looked at his twin fearfully and pushed him back down into his seat with a surprising amount of force. The pain retreated to just a small part of his back, and the strangle-hold that his body had held him in released. Jared gasped for air, shuddering a little bit.

"Dude, gimme a warning when you're going to spaz on me, please," Dagon said, worry flashing in his eyes.

Jared struggled to keep a straight face, blinking back tears of pain. "I couldn't breathe," he whispered. "I couldn't help but remember..."

Dagon gently slapped him across the face as his twin got that glazed look that he often did when he remembered _that_ incident. "Don't," the blond said. "Don't go there, dude. We'll get some help."

Jared shook his head, to clear it from the pain. "No, I'm fine now. It just crops up from time to time, rolling through me like a wave, and then its gone."

The blond eyed his brother doubtfully, but let it go.

* * *

Jared forced his way through the crowd of kids going to class. Someone's bookbag smacked him in the back, directly where it was now always softly throbbing. He instantly screamed and instantly cut it off, tripping over his now deadened feet, and hitting the floor heavily. The impact jolted his spine again, and he let out another pained scream. He literally felt like he was being dunked in acid.

Dagon thrust his way through the crowd and rolled his brother over, kneeling beside him, and smacked him across the face gently. "Jared, look at me," he said forcefully. "Focus on my awesomeness, okay? Someone get a teacher and call 911, _now_!"

Jared struggled to take a breath through the pain, trying to focus on breathing and his brother's "awesomeness" and not the pain. His short fingernails were digging into the skin of his palms, trying not to scream again. Jared's vision was blurry with tears.

The twin's English 2 Acc. teacher joined Dagon's fuzzy head. "Okay, Jared, just focus on breathing, okay? We've got an ambulance coming right now. I don't think our nurse can handle this."

Jared forced himself to nod to show that he understood what she was saying. She folded her hand over Jared's shaking fist. "I admit, the first day you were there, I wasn't sure if I should grin or groan at you two's mischievous looks," she said.

"You had reason to," Jared croaked. "Your wallet looks awesome."

The English teacher looked unsurprised. "My nephew got it for me for Christmas last year," she shamelessly admitted.

The students around the teacher and the twins parted like the Red Sea for the emergency people. Two of them got Jared onto a stretcher swiftly while a third tugged on Dagon's arm and led him to the bus. Jared had surrendered to unconsciousness about halfway through the trip, so Dagon was allowed to be a mess of worried nerves as he sat next to his brother.

* * *

"There are three options, and none of them are all that great," the doctor said to a conscious Jared and a nervous Dagon. Dagon had specifically asked him not to sugarcoat it.

Dagon's jaw clenched. "What's the best option?"

"We perform spinal surgery, and if all goes well, the nerve that's being pinched by his spine is free."

"And if it doesn't go well?" Jared asked tiredly.

The doctor gave him a long look, but said: "You'll never be able to walk again."

There was silence in the room as the twins digested that. "What are the other two options?" Dagon asked finally.

"We could not go through with the surgery, or we could snip the nerve from the start," the doctor said. "Either way, you'll most likely end up in a wheelchair for those two options."

Jared nodded, looking a lot older than thirteen. "Thank you," he said softly. The doctor left the room, leaving the twins to the silence.

Dagon stared at the floor without really seeing it. "Do we go through with the operation?" Jared voiced both of their thoughts. The red-head seemed subdued, but he wasn't at the breaking point yet.

The blond exhaled. "I—We should at least give it a shot, right? Fifty-fifty chance is better than zero-hundred, right?"

Jared exhaled, not quite a sigh, not quite a huff. "We'll go through with it."

* * *

Dagon nearly fainted at the sight of his pale, unconscious, twin. He had wires everywhere, all connecting to him at some point. His hair had lost some of its luster, and now was a dull orange rather than a bright scarlet.

The blond put his head in his hands and felt wet on his face.

If anything, it made him cry harder.

At some point, he had dozed off, because Jared was calling his name weakly. Dagon's head shot up so fast he hit his head on the armrest of the chair. "You feel okay?" Dagon asked immediately, feeling a little hypocritical as he rubbed his rapidly-forming bruise on his head.

"I feel weird," Jared rasped. "I thinkin' that's the drugs they've doped me up on."

Dagon swallowed as he asked the critical question: "Can you feel your legs?"

Jared nodded sleepily. "Feels like I slept wrong, they're all pins-n-needles."

The blond sighed in relief, and Jared drifted back off to sleep. Dagon buried his head in his hands and felt tears of relief trickle through his fingers.

* * *

"The operation was successful." The doctor from before was back, with a conscious Jared and a slightly worried Dagon. "But you seem to have a very high threshold for pain, Jared. The nerve was pinched for so long that it frayed a little."

"How long was it pinched?!" Jared asked incredulously.

The doctor gave a slightly incredulous chuckle as well. "It's hard to tell, but we're guessing about six months."

Two pairs of grass-green eyes stared at the doctor in disbelief. Dagon swallowed. Jared blinked rapidly. "You're kidding, right?" Dagon checked.

"No, he isn't, it makes sense," Jared said, rubbing his forehead. "I thought it was just from remembering the incident."

"You didn't tell me?" Dagon asked, bewildered.

"I thought it was my imagination," Jared said sullenly. "Re-living that moment, over and over and over."

Dagon shook his head to clear the images. "I know how you feel. But unlike you, mine really were my imagination."

"God," Jared shook his head in disbelief. "What happens to a frayed nerve?"

The doctor had been watching the exchange with an impassive face, and jumped a little when they addressed him again. "You sever the connection a little. You feel like you've slept wrong, and your legs are all tingly, correct?"

"Shit," Dagon breathed. Jared sagged in his bed. "So I really will be confined to a wheelchair?"

The doctor nodded a little. "You can still walk and run, but you have less control over your movements, and you have more of a chance of tripping rather than walking. I'm sorry, Jared. There are cases where they can walk, but only after a lot of physical therapy, and their nerves weren't as frayed as your nerve is."

Jared nodded. "Thank you, doctor."

The doctor nodded, got up, and walked briskly out of the room.

Unbeknownst to the twins, outside the door, the doctor had to re-compose himself as he nearly cried at his unsuccessful attempt at relieving Jared of his problems.

* * *

Mrs. Porter, the English 2 Acc. teacher, went white at seeing Jared in a wheelchair, wheeling himself next to the spot where he sat. Dagon settled himself in his usual spot, next to his brother. Jared struggled a little to get out of his wheelchair, and slid himself into his desk.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

Jared smiled at her, his usual mischievous smile that made her check her wallet. "My nerves in my spine were being pinched by the bones in my spine," Jared started.

"Apparently this had been going on so long that the nerve frayed, and he doesn't really have all that much control over his legs anymore," Dagon continued.

"Physical therapy can't help me all that much, and trust me, I tried walking. I'm more apt to trip over my own feet or thin air and end up on my face than I am to walk in a semi-straight line," Jared finished.

Dagon looked a little bit amused. "I know I shouldn't laugh or even find it funny, but watching him trying to walk was a little bit funny."

"Don't worry, I was laughing a little as well," Jared said wryly. "I felt like a newborn kitten or something."

* * *

Monday morning, Jared and Dagon were the first into their English 2 Acc. classroom. Jared stopped wheeling himself, his arms frozen in the position to grab the wheels so that he could push himself forward again, so he just kind of aimlessly coasted. Dagon, however, stopped dead, staring at the classroom in shock.

"Wh-why?" Jared stuttered.

The desks were all arranged into groups of four, with pathways between each group that could easily fit a wheelchair, even one that was turning around. The teacher's desk was at the back, along with the electric pencil sharpener, the tissues and hand-sanitizer, the turn-in bin, the selection of books, and the text books. There was a single table, the same height and color of the rest of the desks, but without a chair, in one of the groups in the back.

"You keep the morale up, even during dire times. You keep the class invigorating. You persuade the other students to speak up and answer questions. I've had more questions and answers in the past three weeks than I have in the past semester, because of you twins. The least I could do is make your life easier when it comes to navigating around the classroom," the young English teacher said softly. "_That's_ why."

Jared searched her face for any deceit or lies, but there wasn't any. Dagon watched his brother look at the teacher.

"Besides," Mrs. Porter shrugged nonchalantly. "I've wanted to redo my room for a while now. I took the opportunity."

Jared smiled, not his usual, troublemaker smile, but a soft smile that was genuine. "Thank you."

* * *

It was like that in all four of his periods. They were all wheelchair accessible, and Dagon still hovered over Jared's shoulder sometimes. At stark contrast, Dagon stood at his solid six-foot build, while his brother was four-foot-six in his wheelchair, so it created a little bit of an intimidating effect when someone made an insensitive remark.

Jared got annoyed pretty quick at his brother's fluttering. "Dude, you remind me of a mother hen. I'm okay, it isn't like I can't just ram into them with my wheelchair if they insist on getting ugly. It'd be pretty humiliating for them to end up on my lap."

Dagon rolled his eyes, but backed off.

Mrs. Porter was the only teacher that actually asked them why Jared was in a wheelchair, or if it was permanent. And truthfully, the twins were glad about that. Despite their calm and joking façade, Jared was tired, and Dagon was freaking out.

Then the day was over, and Jared and Dagon scooted out of there as fast and undetected as possible. Dagon wheeled his brother into their apartment.

It was only theirs now.

It used to belong to their father, but now it belonged to them.

"Is it even legal to be a minor and rent an apartment?" Jared asked tiredly as he rubbed his face and braked by the couch in the living room.

"Hey, two more years. We can survive two more years. We've survived six months, haven't we?" Dagon said optimistically. "We have a job. We have money. We're getting an education. I think we're doing pretty good, considering."

"Considering our mom left and our dad died six months ago?" Jared asked glumly. "What about the hospital bills? For both of us, and then me again? We haven't paid off the first set yet."

Dagon sank onto the couch, his head in his hands. "I dunno. But I'm almost done with the first set. I just need to halve the next paycheck, and I'll have enough for the rent as well. From there, it'll be a little tight, but we can make it."

"I won't be getting paid, remember?" Jared said. "I'm not any use stuck in a wheelchair."

"You'll be getting one last paycheck," Dagon corrected. "I talked to the manager, and he agreed to see what he could give you as a job once he heard what happened."

Jared sighed in relief. "So at least I might be bringing in _some_ money."

* * *

"A _cook_?" Jared said, raising an eyebrow.

"Take it or not, boy!" the gruff manager said, aggravated.

"No, I'll take it, I was just surprised," Jared backtracked quickly. "Sir," he added, nearly as an afterthought.

The manager nodded shortly. "It will be built in a month or so. It's wheelchair accessible, and you won't be the only one confined to a wheelchair."

Jared raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. The manager nodded brusquely. "Good."

Then he walked out.

* * *

"Jared! Hey, dude, fancy meeting you here!" Kyle said, holding his hand out for a high-five. Jared grinned at him, slid his order in front of Kyle and slapped his hand.

"Hey, I wish we could catch up, but I'm kinda busy," Jared said, laughing a little as he jerked his thumb behind him, gesturing to the waiting line of people.

"Yeah, just a little," Kyle commented, laughing. "When does your shift end?"

Jared slid Kyle's parents their orders and checked his watch. "In about half an hour, give or take ten minutes or so."

Kyle grinned crookedly. "I think we can stall that long."

Kyle: a blond-haired guy who couldn't sit still for very long. The longest time anyone had even seen him still was when he drew, a full hour and fifteen minutes. Both Jared and Dagon had been willing to bet that Kyle was ADHD, and both had lost that bet when his parents took him in to get tested. He was that guy that cracked jokes so stupid that they were funny, and a notorious prankster and pickpocket.

Speaking of pickpocketing... Jared held out his hand patiently. "Wallet," he said. Kyle reluctantly handed Jared his wallet. "House key," Jared said. Kyle flipped him his key, which Jared caught deftly and shoved it in his pocket. "I still need my name tag, otherwise I'd let you have it," Jared said dryly. Kyle huffed and slid it across the table. Jared shrugged. "You can keep the Tic-Tacs."

Kyle's parents were dumbfounded, but Kyle just grinned at Jared and handed over the Tic-Tacs anyway. "You gonna give me my cellphone?" he said, laughing. Jared sighed dramatically and tossed Kyle his phone, a half-eaten bag of M&Ms, and Kyle's locker key.

"Truce for right now?" Jared checked. Kyle nodded, and the two boys bumped fists. Jared rolled away so that he could do his job. Kyle started laughing at his parents' faces.

"Inside joke," he stuttered out an explanation in his laughter.

* * *

"You're getting a higher paycheck than I am," Dagon told his brother exasperatedly.

"Ha," Jared said, distracted by Geometry homework. "How the heck do you do this?"

Dagon walked over, frowning at the textbook. "The triangles have one side each that are parallel to each other, right? So two parallel lines, with the shared side as the transversal—"

"You can use alternate interior angles theorem to see if the angles are congruent, with the shared side, you could use postulate ASA (Angle-Side-Angle) to prove that the triangles in the picture are congruent," Jared said, catching on, writing it all down. "Gotcha."

"Exactly," Dagon nodded. "I think you misspelled 'postulate', though."

Jared mumbled under his breath as he erased the word. Louder, he said, "Screw my dyslexia."

Dagon snorted. "Dyslexia for you, ADHD for me. Aren't we the most awesome of twins?"

Jared rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Lieutenant Sarcasm."

"That is _Colonel _to you, young sir."

"Shut up, Dagon," Jared said, exasperated, starting on the next problem.

Dagon grinned cheekily. "Whatever you say, He-Who-Makes-More-Money-Than-I-Do."

"I really hate you sometimes, you know that?"

"_No_, really?!"

"Thank you, Lieutenant Sarcasm."

"It is _Colonel_! Jeez!"

"You're definitely a Lieutenant."

Dagon huffed and went back to writing checks. The dining room fell into blessed silence.

"Hey, am I First or Second Lieutenant?" Dagon suddenly asked.

Jared simply rolled his eyes.

* * *

"Dagon?"

"Yeah?"

Jared inhaled deeply. "I know that you're going to kill me, but I honestly had _no_ say in whether or not I took her home..."

Dagon looked up sharply. Sitting in his sheepish brother's lap was a pure-black kitten with half-lidded haunting green eyes that matched the brothers' eyes perfectly. She—Dagon guessed that Jared had checked the gender—was probably barely weaned, and she was really skinny.

"She kept pacing around my chair, I nearly ran over her a couple times, and then she climbed up onto my lap and I tried picking her up to offload her because I knew you'd kill me if I brought a kitten home, especially one as young as she is, but _damn_, her nails just sank into my pants and she refused to be moved, I tried Dagon, I really did—" Jared rambled.

"Jared," Dagon said gently, a wry smile on his face. Jared shut up instantly. "I'll see if the apartment complex will let us keep her. Truth be told, I highly doubt that stubborn little thing will simply let herself be kicked out of the house after following you home three miles."

Jared broke out into a relieved grin. Dagon could hear the kitten purr from ten feet away. Jared looked down at the fuzzball in his lap wryly.

* * *

"Jared!" Dagon yelped. "Get your damn cat _off of my head_!"

It was unanimously decided that Umbra—the kitten that Jared had brought home a month ago—was Jared's cat, mainly because Umbra would purr in Jared's lap and Dagon could only get close to her if Umbra was on Dagon's head. He looked like he was wearing a black wig with eyes when Umbra would do that.

"You are the _strangest_ kitten I've ever met," Jared muttered, spotting his kitten on Dagon's head. Wobbling, Jared unsteadily stood up, towering over his brother unexpectedly, and plucked the kitten from Dagon's head gently, settling down in his wheelchair with Umbra perched on his shoulder like a bird, her poofed tail wrapped around his neck like a black neckwarmer or something.

"You're _taller_ than me," Dagon said, gawking at his brother. "And by like _three inches_! And I'm _six foot one_!"

Jared laughed a little. "Does it really matter?"

"You're Halloween colors," Dagon suddenly blurted out, looking from the black cat on Jared's shoulder to Jared's orange hair. "And no, it doesn't matter."

"ADHD at it's finest," Jared snickered. "Jeez."

* * *

"Umbra may be the strangest kitten I've ever met, but she's got to be the smartest," Dagon said, staring.

"I'm sorry, but when did you ever meet a kitten?" Jared asked. "We hardly have a TV set, and we definitely don't volunteer at the humane society."

Dagon rolled his eyes. "How many people say that kittens and cats prefer to lazing around the house and sleeping the day away?"

"I don't know, I stopped listening to people when I had two government agents conversing at a table I was serving," Jared said honestly.

Okay, let's back up: Jared was doing his homework in English, and he got frustrated and pushed down too hard and broke the pencil tip. Jared threw the pencil across the room in frustration with his homework. Umbra, the ever-watchful and ever-helpful cat, uncurled herself from Jared's neck, retrieved the pencil, and got Jared's tiny pencil sharpener. Dagon walked in half-way through the process, and the brothers had watched, dumbfounded, as the kitten spat out the pencil sharpener next to the broken pencil, climbed up Jared's wheelchair, and settled herself back onto Jared's shoulders, purring in pride.

Jared petted Umbra, who was still wrapped around Jared's shoulders and purring for all she was worth. Jared fed her a little peice of ham from his sandwich as a reward.

Umbra purred harder as she munched on the ham, and Jared laughed.

* * *

Jared was showing off Umbra to Kyle, who was resisting saying something smart.

"Umbra, could you get me the chips?" Jared said gently, scratching her head. Bright green eyes looked at him, annoyed. Jared rephrased. "_Would_ you get me the chips?"

The elegant cat arched her back and stretched, taking her own sweet time, and then hopped gracefully from Jared's shoulders to the third shelf, where Jared couldn't reach easily, and nudged the bag of chips off the edge, where Jared caught them deftly. Umbra jumped down into Jared's lap, climbed up to Jared's neck, curled around him and went back to napping.

Kyle's mouth was hanging open.

"She's one smart cookie," Jared agreed with his friend, laughing. Umbra's tail twitched with pleasure, recognizing the compliment.

"Is she like a guide cat? You know, instead of a guide dog?" Kyle asked, dumbfounded.

Umbra looked at the blond boy, annoyed. Jared scratched her head. "No. She did it all by herself, no training needed. Personally, I think it's motherly instincts kicking in for something that doesn't have full use of all four limbs." He shrugged. "But really, besides Umbra, who knows?"

* * *

Jared woke up to Umbra jumping on his stomach, hissing at something in the doorway. "Umbra, the heck is _wrong_ with you?" Jared asked groggily, annoyed. He knew that she didn't like Dagon, but just because his brother was going to the bathroom in the middle of the night _did not_ warrant waking him up!

Then the lava-red eyes made themselves known to the world in the doorway. Umbra yowled at the top of her lungs, and Jared sat bolt upright at the sight, his own eyes wide with fear. Umbra hissed, the fur along her spine puffed up, her tail practically a bottle-brush.

"Holy crap," Jared breathed.

"Jared! Shut up your cat!" Dagon yelled from his room, irritated. The eyes turned toward the sound. "Oh shit."

By the sound of it, Dagon had just seen the eyes.

"Dagon, run!" Jared yelled, rolling off his bed into his wheelchair, grabbing an assortment of heavy objects to throw. Umbra yowled again, but her tone had changed: somewhere between a wolf's howl and a battle cry magnified by ten. That would certainly annoy the neighbors.

Jared watched in disbelief as his cat launched herself at the red eyes. A whine of surprise came from that direction, and whatever it was backed out of the hall, giving Dagon and Jared the time to get out of the apartment.

Jared hauled his brother out of his room, putting on a shirt as he did so. Dagon was still stuck in his shirt, so Jared just rammed into his brother's legs, and Dagon fell into Jared's lap, and they hightailed out of there.

He bumped down the stairs like a rocket, screeching around corners. Jared resisted the urge to go back for Umbra, but he knew Umbra was definitely _not_ an ordinary cat. With luck, Umbra would live. If they were unlucky, Umbra wouldn't, and neither would Jared and perhaps Dagon, for the simple reasons of they were without a weapon or six, the thing was huge, and Jared was confined to a wheelchair.

"Wait!"

Dagon, still sitting on his brother, looked backwards as Jared concentrated on rolling as fast as possible. "It's Kyle," he reported. "He looks like he's hurt, almost. It's weird."

Jared screeched to a stop and turned the wheelchair around, and Dagon thankfully got off of his brother. "What are you doing, Kyle!" Jared yelled. People shot him annoyed looks. Suddenly Umbra appeared out of seemingly nowhere and got the ball rolling again. "Change of plans, c'mon, Kyle!"

"I swear if we get out of this alive, I'm giving that cat a freaking medal," Dagon said, running next to Jared's wheelchair.

"Don't worry, I'm giving something she'll appreciate much more than a hunk of metal: a bed on the back of my wheelchair, to slide over the handles like a hammock," Jared puffed out. "Dude, what is up with your _legs_?"

That last part was directed at Kyle, who'd caught up with them. "Explain later," he huffed. "Turn right!"

They made a strange foursome: a blond-haired boy, a red-haired boy in a wheelchair, another blond-haired boy with goat legs, and a black cat, all moving at a fast pace.

"What was that?" Jared asked to anyone that would listen. "It's eyes were half the size of my head!"

"Black dog," Dagon remembered. "Tall. Eight feet. Three feet wide. Six feet long. Snout as long as my forearm."

"Umbra did a number on it," Kyle said. "Blind in one eye, injured on two paws, four long gashes down the left flank, right ear looks like its been used as a chew toy."

"I love your cat, Jared," Dagon said.

"Yeah, you _might've_ said that before," Jared huffed.

"Left!" Kyle yelled.

"Where are we going?" Jared asked his friend.

"You're demigods," Kyle said, as though that explained everything. "Well, not Umbra, of course, despite her Latin name for 'Shadow', but we're going to the one of two safe places in the world for you two."

"Wonderful," Jared groaned.

"I don't know 'bout you, Jared, but I ain't feeling too godly!" Dagon said sarcastically.

Kyle rolled his eyes.

"I'm not entirely sure what _demi_- means, though," Dagon said thoughtfully.

"Left," Kyle said suddenly. The foursome whipped around the corner into practically nothing. "Close to the end of Long Island," Kyle explained. "We're almost there."

There was a ground-shaking _WOOF_.

"Oh, look, our doggie friend is back," Jared said sarcastically. Umbra whipped him with her tail. "Sarcasm, Umbra, sarcasm," Jared said. Umbra flicked him with her tail again. "What, would you like to say that the dog is _your_ friend?!" Umbra hissed. "Yeah, I thought not."

"I can't believe you're having a conversation with your _cat_, at a time like this," Kyle muttered.

"Yeah, well, I can't believe my best friend is half-donkey, said best friend is saying my brother and I are half-god, and all three of us and my incredibly smart cat is being chased by a huge dog with daggers for fangs," Jared snapped.

Kyle frowned at him. "I am half-_goat_."

"Who cares?!" Dagon yelled, exasperated. "Shut up, both of you!"

"Has anyone thought about the fact that this be a nightmare of mine?" Jared asked.

"It's scientifically impossible for two people to have the exact same dream," Dagon said. "And I'm right here next to you, having the same so-called dream. So yeah, unfortunately not a nightmare."

"Wonderful," Jared muttered.

Kyle cut off the road and started going up the hill. It was practically in the middle of nowhere, and Jared could barely see the road in front of him, let alone the hill.

"Whoa, wait, why are we going up a hill?" Dagon asked.

"The hellhound has extraordinary sight, hearing, and smell, but if you are attacked the hellhound's size ends up being it's downfall because it's slow and clumsy, especially around turns, and its flesh is easy to cut," Kyle said. "Camp Half-Blood's borders will keep it out, unless you have a sharp object conviently on you?"

"I have a hammer," Jared volunteered, looking through his stash of heavy objects he'd grabbed when the hellhound had first invaded the apartment. "A screwdriver, a baseball bat, a radio, a metal lamp, a plastic sword from five years ago, and I think this is a flattened metal lunchbox."

Dagon looked at his brother like he was nuts. "Why do you have all that junk on you?"

"I was planning on throwing them at the dog for scaring my cat," Jared said, shrugging. "Never really got the opportunity."

"Do we sit here and debate on why Jared brought along a screwdriver or do we go up the hill and get to safety?!" Kyle said impatiently. "Go, gods!"

_WOOOOF!_

"It's close," Dagon said. "Sorry, Jared, I'm going to have to push you. The hill's too steep for you to get up there by yourself."

Jared's hands closed over his wheels determinedly, and Dagon got behind his brother. Jared started rolling, slowly, so his brother could catch up, and started going up the hill. He could hear Dagon huffing from pushing Jared up the hill, and Jared kept rolling, although it was nearly useless on the slick grass. Kyle got in front of Jared and pulled on the wheelchair.

"Stop," Jared said, exasperated. He turned his wheelchair sideways so that he wouldn't go rolling backwards, and set the brake. "I can still walk a little."

"Jared—"

Jared glared at his brother and hauled himself out of his wheelchair. "No," he said.

Dagon didn't protest again.

Jared tripped and stumbled up the hill, leaning on his best friend and brother to guide him, Umbra breaking a little bit of a trail in front of them in the tall grass. Dagon glanced back and saw that Jared's wheelchair was flattened by the dog's paw.

"Just a little ways to go," Kyle reassured the twins. "Like twenty feet. Ten paces. C'mon, Jared."

The red-head built up his energy and forged on through the grass. The ground shook from the hellhound's running.

"Three paces, Jared, c'mon," Kyle said anxiously.

Suddenly that energy that Jared had been trying to keep with him swamped him, thrumming through him like he'd just got a shot to the heart with adrenaline. He stood up straight, no longer leaning on his brother and Kyle. Everything around him was crystal clear, simultaneously fast-paced and slow.

Jared's own hammering heart.

The dog's paws hitting the ground.

Kyle's gasp.

Dagon's confused face.

The huge pine tree swaying in the breeze.

The dragon wrapped around said pine tree.

The horn blowing in the distance.

Instinctively, Jared lashed out, his hands clenched into fists, his feet spread apart into a battle stance. The grass around the foursome leaned towards Jared, just as the hellhound got within three feet—and rammed into a solid wall of grass. Jared lashed out again, sweeping his left foot out, perfectly balanced on his right, blinding the hellhound in the eye Umbra hadn't gotten. The grass around Jared rose, leering at the hellhound, looking like thousands of sharp blades, and the hellhound whimpered, hearing the rustle but not being able to see it, and turned tail and ran.

Jared's mysterious energy surge left him, and he collapsed.

"Okay," Dagon said weakly. "Now I'm starting to believe this godly stuff."

Kyle slammed his palm into his face.

* * *

"He made the hellhound run with grass," the guy in the wheelchair clarified.

Dagon shrugged helplessly, looking at Kyle. When it was clear that Kyle wasn't answering, Dagon sighed and said, "That's what it looked like. And he _stood up_. On his own. Without any assistance. He was on _one foot_ for some of it as well, with no problems with controlling his legs whatsoever."

"And his cat is scaring off the Apollo cabin," the guy in the wheelchair said, sounding slightly amused.

Kyle's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. Dagon's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Yeah, that's Umbra. Scaring the crap out of people, including me, daily."

He raised an eyebrow. "'Shadow'? You named her the Latin version of 'shadow'?"

Dagon sighed. "Well, she's pure black. And she sticks to Jared just as much as Jared's shadow, but 'shadow' is too common of a name for black cats, so Jared named her Umbra."

"She's smart, also," Kyle added. "She's the one that tore up the hellhound first."

"Umbra was the one to wake us up because there was a hellhound in the apartment," Dagon added. "And she helps my brother on a daily basis, getting things for him or helping him get them."

"And she doesn't really like anyone but Jared," Kyle added wryly.

"She only tolerates me because I live with Jared," Dagon said dryly. "And maybe because I let her stay."

The guy in the wheelchair—Chiron—chuckled. "Thus is the nature of cats," he said, amusement in his voice.

"No kidding," Kyle huffed.

Chiron rolled to the infirmary, the two boys following him, talking about Umbra ("That cat scares the heck out of me." "Don't worry, dude, she does it to everyone."), Jared ("I still don't get that." "I highly doubt Jared will, either."), the mythology thing ("Why are you a satyr?" "I don't know, why is Umbra a cat?" "I would hate to see Umbra in a human form."), who the twins' parent might be ("Uh, Kyle, we're _fraternal_ twins. Note the difference in hair color and height." "The thing Jared did last night would probably point towards Demeter, and you still share the same eyes. Then again, you share the same eye color as Umbra. Creepy." "I am _not_ related to that cat!"), and whether or not Umbra would hiss at them when they got 1) in the doorway, 2) at ten feet, or 3) at three feet.

The trio found Jared sitting up in bed, holding a hand to his forehead, his eyes screwed shut, Umbra pacing around him and purring worriedly, getting black fur all over the white sheets. "Could someone kill the sun?" he muttered. "What hit me? I have a heck of a migrane."

Dagon switched the lights off. "Nothing hit you. If anything, you hit that hellhound."

"Hellhound?" Jared mumbled groggily. "What happened?"

Dagon chewed on his lip. "You don't remember Umbra waking you up in the middle of the night? The glowing red eyes? Running—or rolling, in your case—for seven miles straight? You don't remember the assortment of things you were ready to throw because the hellhound scared your kitty? Or how suddenly you were able to stand on your own, command plants to chop said hellhound into mince meat, and looking generally very godly? None of that?"

Jared, who had settled back into the pillows, wincing occasionally, bolted back upright again. "That power surge? That was _real_?!"

"Very real and very terrifying," Kyle confirmed.

"God, that felt awesome," Jared muttered.

Dagon nodded a little. "Yeah, uh-huh. I'll take your word for it. How did you do it?"

Jared shook his head disbelieveingly. "To heck if I know. I was trying to keep ahold of the energy I already had, and then all of a sudden I felt like I had been shot in the heart with adrenaline."

"Tapping into demigod energy," Chiron said. Everyone jumped. Chiron held out his hand for Umbra to sniff. The black cat cautiously crept over and sniffed his hand, watching Chiron's every move warily. She finally butted her head against his hand after scrutinizing every millimeter of his hand, and jaws dropped.

"Alrighty, then," Jared said, sizing up Chiron. "I think it's the familiar smell of wheelchair."

Chiron had three pairs of eyes staring at him as he scratched Umbra's head gently.

And he hadn't even turned centaur on them yet.

* * *

The looks on Katie Gardener's and Lou Ellen something-or-other's faces were hilariously opposite: 'aww, c'mere you little cutie you' and 'get that thing away from me', respectively. _And_ Katie was estatic that she had two new brothers besides the half-grown kitten in her arms.

One of Katie's youngest sisters was playing with Umbra, dragging a long piece of grass along the floor, giggling everytime Umbra pounced excitedly, trapping the piece of grass. But when Jared rolled into the cabin in his new wheelchair (remember, the last one got flattened by the hellhound), all of the Demeter cabin got ditched to go curl around her charge's neck protectively. All of the girls in the cabin awwed simultaneously.

Jared shifted uncomfortably from all the attention from his siblings. _Siblings_. Jared was used to having _one_ sibling. Not a whole baker's dozen. Dagon was having the same problem. Katie, Miranda, Jacob, Jillianne, Max and Matt, Eden (yes, like the garden), Adam...all the names just kind of blended together.

"The gods didn't keep their promise," someone said. "_Again_."

The whole cabin turned, and Jared instantly felt like he should be getting his baseball bat ready and be ready for the fight of his life because this guy practically _radiated_ power. Power and weariness. He was tall, as in, taller than Jared when he was standing, about nineteen years old, with jet black hair streaked with grey. His eyes, an unusual sea-green color, were overshadowed with the burden of leadership. His stance was relaxed and yet viligant, like he was used to being attacked and gave up on ever relaxing completely.

Jared swallowed. Umbra's tail tightened around Jared's neck, and her ears went back, but she didn't hiss. Dagon took a step backwards in surprise. Around them, one of the younger kids was kneeling, a couple others straightened, and Katie, Miranda, and Jacob smiled warmly.

"Hey, Percy," Katie greeted.

"Hi, Katie," he said tiredly. "I'm so not ready for another war."

Jacob growled at the word. Miranda's jaw tightened.

"I realize it wasn't Piper and Leo's faults, but still. I'm about ready to go throttle some sense into Zeus," Percy said.

Katie opened up her arms, and Percy sank into them gratefully. "Hey, I'll help you," she comforted. "I don't doubt that the demigods themselves will go against the gods if another war crops up. Both sets of them."

"Just imagine Zeus peeing his pants because of a thousand angry demigods and legacies storming Olympus," Miranda growled. Percy shook with laughter in Katie's arms. Katie and Jacob were laughing, as well as the rest of the cabin.

Jacob imitated someone's voice, Jared guessed it was Zeus's voice: "'Being told what to do by a mere demigod! The horror!'"

One of the girls, Jared thought it was Jillianne, laughed. "You guys are nuts!"

Jacob waved his hand and a plant grew out of the ground. He uprooted it and showed off the peanuts, to more laughter.

"Percy?"

Umbra's tail practically choked Jared, and he gagged for a second before prying her tail from his neck. A girl with blonde hair and stormy grey eyes entered the cabin. She let out a relieved grin when she saw Percy. "Good, I found you."

"_Annabeeeeeth_," Percy groaned. "I really don't want to look at another building, _please_."

"Come _on_, Seaweed Brain. I promise you'll like it," Annabeth said firmly, tugging him out of the cabin, and away from Katie. "Also, when is your mom adopting Katie? I mean, seriously! Sometimes I think she loves Katie more than she loves me and you put together."

Katie blushed.

"Katie knows her plants," Percy said, as if that explained it all. "Moreover, she can take care of my moonlace and appreciate its rarity."

"Oooh, Percy, big word!"

"Shut up. Not all of us are Wise Girls."

"Are you sure they're still together?" Jillianne asked doubtfully. "They bicker so much, it can't possibly be healthy..."

"Bickering is their way of flirting," Miranda said dryly.

* * *

Dagon bolted upright in cold sweat.

"Dagon?"

He jumped, but recognized Miranda's voice. "Yeah? What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Both siblings knew why: nightmares.

"Miranda?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

Dagon hesitated again. "The first time I came to the cabin, Percy dropped by, and, well, he said that the gods broke their promise again, and then mentioned a war, like, multiple times, and a Piper and a Leo, and—"

Dagon shut up because Miranda grabbed his wrist and dragged him outside, grabbing one of the torches. "You want to know about the wars," she said.

He shook his head. "Not particurally. I just wanted to know what promise the gods broke that started a war, and how it applies to me and my brother."

Miranda's face looked scary in the torchlight. "If you want to know about the promise, then you have to know about the Second Titan War. And if we're on the subject of war already, then I'm telling you about the Second Giant War as well."

And Miranda dove into the woods. Dagon looked apprehensively at the thick foliage, but followed.

* * *

Dagon followed Miranda deep into the forest, amidst growls and hoots from the monsters, but all of them steered clear. All of them seemed to know what was going on. All of them respected it.

_Was this some kind of newbie ritual__?_ Dagon wondered idly.

They came to a gigantic pile of rocks in a clearing. Four others were already there. "Hey, Leo. Hi, Clarisse," Miranda greeted.

_Leo?!_

"Hi, Miranda," the elfish boy said.

"Punk," the buff girl muttered.

Miranda checked her watch. She watched it...and watched it...and watched it...and slammed her hand down on a rock with a hard _smack_ traditional of flesh meeting hard stone.

The stone caved a solid three inches. Fire poured out of either side of the pile of rocks, and a hidden speaker started playing music. The fire circled around the clearing, turning different colors, from yellow to red to blue to green to hot pink, roaring a solid thirty feet into the air. Miranda smiled sadly.

**(The events of TLT, SoM, TC, BotL, TLO, TLH, SoN, MoA, HoO, and whatever the last book will be called was outlined in flames.)**

* * *

Jared frowned at his brother in concern. Umbra even headbutted Dagon's arm. "Tell you later," Dagon whispered.

_Tell you later_ was code for _tell you in private, without prying ears around, and just go with it because I really don't feel like talking about it right now_. So now Jared was doubly concerned. Umbra purred a little in comfort, headbutting Dagon's arm again.

The two brothers smiled a little: they both knew the other could read what the other was thinking.

* * *

**Notes:**

**Jared never did regain full use of his legs, although for short bursts he could fight nearly as well as Percy.**

**Dagon and Jared both led relatively normal and safe lives, save for the occasional monster.**

**Both fell for daughters of Hermes (which was weird, as Katie and Travis got together and Miranda and Connor got together, so everyone was starting to see a definite pattern).**

**Both married said daughters of Hermes eight years later in a double wedding.**

**Dagon brought home a cat from PetSmart.**

**He didn't know that it was male.**

**He also didn't know that it wasn't fixed.**

**Neither brother knew that Umbra wasn't fixed.**

**Umbra gave birth to three healthy kittens six months later: one a dark tabby, one grey-and-white tabby, one pure black: Panthera, Des, and Skia respectively.**

**All three kittens grew up watching their mother help around the house.**

**All three kittens inherited their mother's smarts.**

**Skia—Greek for 'shadow' instead of Latin—however, was the only one to truely follow in her mother's pawsteps.**

**Panthera—Latin for 'panther'—was adopted by Kiki, Dagon's girlfriend. She had a habit of stealing pencils instead of bringing them back to you.**

**Des was adopted by Rey, Jared's girlfriend, and loved for simply being a lap cat—a lap warmer, if you will.**

**Umbra lived for an extremely long time for a cat: twenty years, and died peacefully in her sleep. She was the only cat in the world who took down a _dracaenae_ by herself, no help necessary.**

**Umbra's legacy went on for generations. So did Jared and Rey's. Not anywhere near as famous as Percy and Annabeth's, of course, but perhaps the strangest.**

**Dagon lived until he was fifty-three, until he was cornered by a legion of _dracaenae_ and killed.**

**Jared died three months afterwards, of heartbreak.**

**A/N:**

***exhales* I know. You guys have full rights to kill me. But do you want writing that's coming from a doped-up-on-medicine-and-sick-beyond-belief mind or do you want something that isn't half-insane? Anyway.**

**I know this one is a little bit different than the rest, but that's kind of what I was going for. Also, it was starting to drive me insane because this is at least 8,000 words, and I'd just gotten to the plotline. So, yeah.**

**-Winter**


End file.
